love cannot be cured by herbs
by elizabeth's lullaby
Summary: With the sunset, buds of flowers close their petals and hide their hearts for the night. Rose/Scorpius oneshot.


**Rose / Scorpius**

**Disclaimer: ****I do not own Harry Potter *sniff***

_Ah me! love can not be cured by herbs__ – _Ovid

Rose could honestly say that she hates him – he's the conceited type that talks too loudly and thinks every adolescent in the school must adore him.

He's hugely tall and gangling, and would be even more good looking if he wasn't so up himself.

Of course Rose doesn't think like that. Because she's a Ravenclaw, so that makes her clever. (Or does it make her blind?)

In any case, she's bright enough to see his eyes linger on her a little longer than every other girl in their year, because with all worst enemies comes a deep layer of sexual tension, which blocks the usual prejudice you have of a complete stranger, and just makes it opaque, like muddy glass.

And the only comfort she gets from disliking someone so much, is that he can't stand her either.

Scorpius could honestly say that she's the only girl in the year that is beautiful.

It's fun, for a time, to keep up her game of wicked glares and whispers behind each others backs, when really he thinks he could fancy the pants off her.

Because _of course_ the play-boy front is false. And _of course_ it's just a hundred times easier to be confident, than to be _The Boy from Malfoy Manor_, the home of the eternally downtrodden who simply can't move on from the war.

He just wishes someone could see it. That she could see it.

And the only comfort he gets from 'disliking' this girl so much is that it makes her attention to him.

Honestly, it's difficult for worst enemies to stay that way; hating someone means you're constantly on the look out for something wrong about them, a rumour to spread. Having an enemy means they watch your back, if only to tell their best-friend-sometimes that his cloak is too long or his boxers are showing (so that must make him an idiot).

And honestly, seeing the bleak hurt in his eyes for a second when you're mid-whisper, and he _sees, _makes you almost wish you'd never said it.

And soon enough, worst enemies have a _connection._

It's trying to hard to swagger around when she's near, and wearing too much make up because you're in double Herbology with him that day.

And then one day after Herbology, they find themselves round the back of the greenhouses. No one around, and they're surrounded by the less-interesting muggle plants and a wheel barrow. Soon there's just a seething space between them.

Then the space is gone, and, slowly at first, there's hands in hair and lips moving and prickling, and they had no idea that kissing could be soviolent, but so gentle all at once, as they stagger backwards against Greenhouse Three.

Surprisingly to both, there's no corny violins ringing in their ears, just the crackle of drying leaves below their feet and a _thrush _of the trees around in the breeze. It's like the world is telling them that this is natural, and built up over time.

It's about pricking of ears for the distant bird song, and realising there is no more beautiful sound when you're in the arms of a beautiful person. It's about a silent conversation, not desperation, and it's every insult she never said, and every time her hair looked great even after Quidditch practice and he didn't tell her. It's needing, and pulling closer and almost _loving_.

Because there's definitely some love in this equation, even if it's new and an opening bud and unspoken – it's there.

But everyone knows that with the sunset, buds of flowers (Roses in particular) close their petals and hide their hearts for the night, and when they break away from each other and try not to make eye contact, they just clear away a broken flowerpot that wasn't there before, and try not to wonder how long they were, and why the sun is coming down.

And then she walks down to Hagrid's with her hand to her head, looking back at him just once. The red of her hair and the green of her eyes have never looked so bright as they do now, her cheeks the palest pink and shining in the last rays of the purple sunset. There's a ghost of a smile at the tip of her lips, and it haunts him as he walks down to the lake, and it's almost like nothing happened.

But their careful wall doesn't stay up much longer.

**A/N: reviews are appreciated. **


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